CHA 3

Worst of all, the origin of that magic wasn't outside. It emanated from inside her house, where she'd left her son alone and asleep.

Her hand shook on the doorknob, and it took two tries to get the knob to turn. She couldn't allow him close to her son, not when Alexander was still so young. She had to reach him, to protect him, but if Luthor was already inside the house, what could she possibly do? She'd gained strength being on her own, but not nearly enough strength to ward off an Alpha.

She was practically hyperventilating by the time she finally got a grip on the knob, and the front door creaked slowly open. She'd held onto a faint hope that she was going crazy, but the moment she could see into her home, there was no avoiding the truth.

There, at her dining table, was Luthor Michaels, her ex-Alpha, her son's father, and the only man she'd ever slept with. Every Omega instinct in her was screaming at her to either submit to him there and then or beg for his favor.

Screw that. She hadn't isolated herself from her pack for this long to roll over and let Luthor dictate to her again, Omega or not. Fear seared white hot, but something else burned hotter—the need to protect her son.

He stood and walked towards her, and she instinctively took a step back. Her legs shook, and her knees all but gave way, but she held her ground, raising her chin in a futile attempt to appear braver than she felt.

Luthor was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Time hadn't done anything to diminish the almost painful longing she had for him. His blond hair, usually a couple of shades lighter than Alexander's, had been cut since last she'd seen him, and now it was a shorter, more severe style. His jaw was still so firm, and his lips were full and sensual as always against his tanned skin.

The one thing that hadn't changed, though, were his eyes. Bright, clear blue, and she knew the exact color—the color of a summer sky.

His eyes roved over her, and for a moment, she was back in a simpler, sweeter time when they'd had one beautiful night together before he'd broken up with her and ignored her like everyone else.

But this wasn't memory. This was real life.

"Sharon," he snarled, "It's been a long time." Luthor stepped closer again, and this time she didn't retreat. "Now, where the devil is my son?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stuttered out the words, but it was a near thing. Being this close to her again after all these years had reduced him to near speechlessness.

He must have forgotten she was beautiful. He must have forgotten his wolf was dying to protect her, to guard her like any decent Alpha would his Omega.

Somehow.he'd forgotten that Sharon Spark was the one and only woman in the world who ever had an effect on him, and now he was going to have to fake that what he was feeling now was anger, and not a crazy combination of anger and lust.

Usually pale-skinned, Sharon was pink with fear and anger, the color riding high in her cheeks. Her dark chocolate hair was stacked on her head, but wisps of it had broken free, curling around her face and tempting neck. Her eyes, midnight black sometimes slashed through with moonlight silver, were big and despairing. Sharon had been lovely to him before, but the past seven years had beaten out whatever remaining shy awkwardness, leaving only the best of her.

It would have been harder if he wasn't truly enraged as hell with her, even as her sweet scent overwhelmed his senses. She'd been in hiding for seven fucking years by now, and it'd taken a Herculean effort to be finally able to find her. When he'd discovered she'd been a mere four hours away the entire time, he'd been ready to tear the nearest person apart. He'd been so furious.

Sharon had been living under a different last name and keeping a low profile for years, and if she were any other stray pack member, he'd have ignored her disappearance and gone on with his life. If a wolf didn't like how he managed the pack, so be it. But Sharon wasn't any other wolf.

Even though she was born of shifter parents, Sharon appeared to have been human and magic-less. So when he caught her heat on her and learned that she was an Omega, he was shocked. Omegas were rare, and they were not typically found until their first heat showed up.

Like the rest of the pack, he'd written her off as useless and boring, but that had all changed that day. She wasn't useless anymore; she was an Omega, and she was his.

He was a newly minted Alpha at the time, and her surprise and appreciation of his notice had gotten him undone. He'd softened for Sharon, taken her to bed, and mated her like she wasn't the lowest ranked member of the pack. He'd been gentle, and she'd repaid him many times over. It had made him feel powerful and protective, like he could not get enough of the little Omega.

He'd bound her, more than once, that night.

But after her heat had passed, his rational side reasserted itself, and he'd realized that mating Sharon had been a monumental mistake.

Omegas were supposed to be weak, and humans were supposed to be weaker still than Omegas. Sharon had been an unfortunate combination of both—or so he'd thought. He needed a strong, dominant mate, not a submissive little human.

He'd avoided her for the two days since and tried to get her out of his head. His wolf hadn't wanted her to leave, but it was easy to push his voice to the back of his mind and ignore his howls. Sharon tried to be close to him for a while afterward, but he was distant, and when she didn't take the hint, he was cruel. She eventually caught on and backed off, giving him space, and he tried to put the Omega out of his mind.